


Beginning of the End

by Daughter_of_the_Mountains



Series: Nadadel [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Death, F/M, Glóin and Óin's Mother Has Died, Heartbreak, I Really Do Love These Guys, Now Their Father Dies Too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:09:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Mountains/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_Mountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Adad?"  Glóin said, poking at his father's shoulder. "Adad, wake up!" But, instead, Gróin stayed as pale and cold as his wife, Sannith, had once been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Yâsith- Khuzdul for 'wife'.

Gróin was not going to survive in the world. Not since his beloved, his _yâsith_ , Sannith had passed away of sickness. Age seemed to have grasped Gróin, turning his bones weak, his hair white, his skin delicate and wrinkled and his eyes dull.

It was only a matter of time. 

His legs refused to walk for him anymore at the end of the first month without Sannith. His sons watched the dwarf, once a great warrior deteriorate and it tore at their hearts to see. It was obvious who he needed the most, but the woman was dead and gone and not even his children, both of whom he loved very much, were enough to save him. Still, he continued being a father to his children, an uncle to his nephews, even though he could barely talk above a whisper and could no longer hug the children he'd brought up.

"Could you ever forgive me?" Gróin mumbled to his eldest.

"Forgive you for what, Da?"

"I'm not going to live for much longer, laddie."

Óin's eyes, the same shade of black that had belonged to Sannith, blinked and tore themselves away from the brilliant blue of Gróin's. "You loved Amad," he said at last. "She was your One and only."

"She was your amad too and here I am, about to leave you and him to your grief alone."

"Maybe you'll survive."

 Gróin's laugh was raspy and subdued. "No, this time I have been beaten."

"It's not right. You're not old enough to die." Óin whispered.

Gróin jerkily edged his hand to the one of his firstborn. Óin held onto it tightly, squeezing his eyes shut to imprison the tears burning his dark eyes. 

"Well, lamb, thank you kindly for the compliment. Though your amad wasn't old enough either."

"It's a load of shit."

Gróin might not have had enough strength to bellow at him, but he gave Óin a sharp look and tapped his hand. "You know perfectly well that it's terrible manners to swear. I'll not have it."

"Maybe if I swear enough, you'll be so angry that your strength will return."

Gróin's mouth flicked upwards. "Maybe so, lamb, but you shouldn't try it out. And don't think I won't know if you've been cursing when I die."

"Does Glóin know?"

Gróin sighed. "No. He doesn't know. I don't know, lad, it seems easier to tell you. You look just like her and I never kept a secret from your mother in all our years together."

"Why is it so hard to tell Glóin?"

"Because as much as I love your brother, he's _not_ going to take the news as well as you. He thinks I'm going to recover. And I've tried, my lamb, I've _tried_ to fight it, but there's nothing I can do anymore. And that's why I wonder if you can ever forgive me for leaving you both when you need me so."

"Oh, Adad. There's nothing to forgive. I know you, I know that you would do anything for us and you can't help this anymore than we can."

"I wish I could, lamb." Gróin murmured. "I hope you two never go through anything like this." 

* * *

"Adad?"

Oh, goodness. Another visitor! Wasn't he a lucky dwarf? Gróin  tipped his head sideways and squinted at his secondborn. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I had a bad dream, Da. Can I stay with you? Please?"

"Go on, then."Gróin said, shaking his head. "I must be going soft in my old age."

Nestling closely to his father, Glóin rolled his eyes. "You're not _old_ , Da!"

"Hmph," said Gróin as his youngest made himself comfortable.  "You thought otherwise as a beardling."

"I was little then!"

Gróin chuckled. "So," he said. "What was this bad dream about?"

"It were horrible."

"' _Was_ '," Gróin corrected. Then he shook his head. "Bless me, I'm getting as bad as your cousin."

"Are you feeling better today, Da?"

"About the same, laddie. Don't change the subject, little one. What was this dream?"

"I dreamed we lost Amad in a forest. And she called for us, but we couldn't get to her in time."

"That sounds quite the terror. But things that are lost can still be found."

"When we die, will we find her?"

"Yes."

Glóin grabbed his father's thumb. "Will she mind waiting so long, do you think?"

_'it might not_ be _so long, little ruby,'_ thought  Gróin  to himself sadly. "I cannot speak for her, but she was a patient woman. At  least with you two."

"She said she'd be patient with you if you weren't a royal pain in the-"

"Yes, I know what she said, thank you." Gróin swiftly interrupted. "The rule against swearing still stands, whether I'm on my last legs or not."

"You're _not_ on your last legs, you dope."

"You'd better pray that I _am_ , calling your father a dope!" Gróin growled. 

"Sorry, Da."

Using what energy he had to squeeze his youngest son closer, Gróin caught sight of a single strand of flaming red lying over his locks of white  and wondered just how many days he had left. Not many, that was certain. It was a shame. He'd always longed to be around to see his grandchildren- if he _was_ going to have any, that is. But if he was going to see his grandchildren, it was only ever going to be with Sannith at his side.

"I love you both," he said rather gruffly. "Don't forget that, will you?"

"How can I? You're always telling us."

Gróin huffed a laugh. "Aye, I suppose that's true. Why don't you go on to bed?"

"Can I stay with you for a bit?"

"Made yourself too comfortable, have you?" Gróin teased. "Ah, fine, then. Don't you dare fidget else I'll shove you out this bed."

He couldn't, not really, but Glóin did remain as still as he could for him. Gróin watched his eyelids flutter closed and felt his own drop. Briefly wondering if he would wake up tomorrow, he, too, closed his eyes...

* * *

When Glóin awoke, he was aware of only one thing.  Gróin was freezing. He stared anxiously at his father's face, which looked pale and looked at his chest, praying that he would see it rise and fall.

It stayed the same. 

No breathing broke the silence. No movement broke the stillness.

"Adad?" Glóin said, poking at his father's shoulder. "Adad, wake up!" But, instead, Gróin stayed as pale and cold as his wife, Sannith, had once been.

" _Da_ , oh, Da,  please wake up. Please."

Gróin's eyes stayed firmly closed and he still didn't breathe.  Glóin's own breathing was going haywire as he stared at his unmoving parent. Maybe.. maybe  Óin...

"Óin! Nadad, quickly!"

There was a muffled groan and the thump of feet hit the floor. Slowly, - _why wasn't he being quicker?_ - Óin made his way over, sticking his head through the door so his ash-blonde braid hung over a shoulder. "What?"

"Da won't wake up."

Óin paled. Suddenly alert, he briskly walked over, placing a hand on Gróin's wrist, his neck, his chest, carefully opening an eyelid to look at what should be dazzling blue, but what was now an eerie white... He stopped, and stared, trembling and wide-eyed at Gróin's still form.

"He has no pulse," Óin  eventually murmured, turning to face his brother. "Nadadith, he's gone."

"He can't be," Glóin whispered, gazing in panic at his father. "He can't be _dead_ , Óin."  

 "He is," was the quiet reply."He's gone."

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> In canon, Gróin was 174 when Glóin was 62-63 years of age. Sannith is older than Gróin, so she would have been 180 when she died of apparent illness .


End file.
